Last Flowers
by PetiteFee24
Summary: Sometimes, eternity has an expiration date. Companion to Decision, but it stands alone.


_**Title: **__Last flowers_

_**Author:**__ PetiteFee24_

_**Raiting: T **_

_**Pairing:**__ EricxAlan, kinda onsided. Scratch that, _

_**Summary:**__ Sometimes, eternity has an expiration date. Companion to Decision, but it stands alone._

_**Warnings:**__ none._

_**Author's Notes:**__ Ok. This took AGES to be complete. I'm lazy and translating my own stuff is boring as hell and tiresome. Seeing last night Yukito Nishii's Kokuhaku movie gave me the inspiration and motivation I needed. The movie nothing has to do with this but made my brain explode from awesomeness and the soundtrack is amazing, so I listened to it while editing this. The title came from a song of such soundtrack, I recommend listening to that while reading this_

_/watch?v=vKZ208UWTTM _

_in youtube._

_Seriously, this movie became my favorite one by far. _

_XD I'm really really messed up. _

_On another unrelated note, I swear I wrote this before this week seiyuu event. You'll see why -.-_

_Companion to Decision, but stands alone. English is not my native language, so corrections and suggestions are welcome. Now enjoy._

_**Disclaimer:**__ Nop mine. If this would be mine well... Eric and Alan would be alive, GrellxUndertaker would be canon... so would be RonxWilliam, and Claude would be my bitch XDD_

_**~o~**_

He closed the door and sighed.

He was panting shallow and short breaths. He could still hear the brushing of clothes just outside the door and he forced himself to remain silent. Little by little the sound of a distant soft passing went silent, and then the building's front door slammed shut closed. He cringed at the sound, but allowed himself to slide down the door to end in a sitting position in the floor. The effort for lessen the pain proved itself useless as he grip his own chest in an agonizing pain. He bit his lower lip and hit the floor with a closed fist.

He loathed this kind of situations with all his being. It was already bad enough having an attack being alone in his home and now he has having fits during missions and right in front of a colleague. No, not a colleague, in front of _Eric_.

He held back a cry when the pain tenfold and he started panting uncontrollably. _Thorns of Death._ The pain was just too much. He could feel clearly as if a sharp vine surrounded his heart and started to squeeze it painfully for every drop of blood or life force, tearing and ripping deeper every time. He was blinded momentarily by the unbelievable pain and he tried with all his might to remain conscious. Yes, the attacks were happening more often and were stronger too. He wondered if when finally the sickness would overtake him he would just collapse or become something like dust.

He started to control his agitated breathing, having no success at all. He tried to stand up but he soon realized that he couldn't do it without help, no until the pain decreased. He leaned against the door and let a tired sigh to break the silence in the room. It was freezing cold. It was probably snowing outside and the only fire in the small apartment was in the bedroom, far away from him.

He shuddered and felt terribly guilty. He knew that kicking his friend out into that weather wasn't wise nor nice but he couldn't allow himself to look so pathetic in front of him. Not again. Eric was strong and full of vitality and kind and seemed to care about him. He just owed him so much and he shouldn't show himself weak in front of him, not let him down by any means. He had found someone that could chase the loneliness away from his nightmares and he didn't want the blond away but he didn't want him near him either. He was sick of being lonely, he was so tired but he couldn't take Eric with him into this dark vast of loneliness. It could be next week or next century but he was going to die, and Eric didn't need to involve himself with someone with an expiration date. He had been kind enough to accept him as an apprentice when Mr. Spears suggested it and he had stick around even when he had confessed his current sickness. Eric was already giving too much; he wouldn't dare to ask for more.

A new wave of renovated pain spread all over his body and he couldn't shut a small yell full of pain this time. He body was trembling because of the pain and the cold that sneaked under the door.

He didn't really remember his life as a human. Every single memory of that time was fogged and blurry since he had reborn as a Death God, so did his vision. Vaguely, he remembered living in a humble apartment and coming home one night to find a thief. They fought, but the other had been armed and he couldn't stand a chance. He didn't die in the spot. He remembered himself lying in the cold floor, waiting for death, panting. Everything went dark at one point and when he woke up, everything was blurry. He was in a tidy and fancy infirmary and a man dressed in black was staring at him with slight interest.

Death presented itself as a whole new opportunity to live. And Alan held on tight to it. He didn't say a word while they explained him how things worked in that particular realm, what he was now and what was his duty to fulfill. He couldn't hide a smile at the memory. He felt so alive and happy and full with hope. He didn't feel like he _belong_ while human and he was given another chance for starting anew.

After being for an unnecessary long time in the infirmary, they assigned a room in the Academy quarters. Collecting souls wasn't an easy task, so it was mandatory going through training in order to do it right. And, from the very beginning, he gave his best. Yes, he was shy but tried as hard as he could for taking in every concept, every instruction.

He closes his eyes while his memories of his present postlife were playing in his head in a cinematic record sick kind of way. He needed to start taking control of his breathing, mind power was very powerful thing. He body was still very sore but he forced himself to keep his mind busy in other things, like remembering.

The day when he graduated from the Academy and received his own personalized death scythe was one of the best memories he'd ever had. He wouldn't admit it in public but the sensation of being part of something greater than yourself was the best that could happen to someone that had felt alone all his life.

Then, it happened.

It was just like every other morning. He was an apprentice for a high ranked shinigami when a massive fire occurred outside London trapping a whole workshop full of workers in that hell; and a large boat was sinking in the same time far from there. The Shinigami Dispatch Society was working understaffed, as usually, and only a few of Death Gods were left behind in the headquarters.

For the new ones and freshly graduated it was mandatory to remain in the main offices when a massive emergency like that occurred, because of safety measures. When larger tragedies happen is most likely that demons came around to devour the souls of the deseeded, it was like a buffet for them. Therefore battles between shinigamis and demons were inevitable and having to take care of their own could result in more death and soul losing.

The brunette looked around his partners feeling frustrated. He'd had the best grades of his class at the Academy, and he was ready for this. He could take down any demon any day, he was ready. They were ordered to remain in the office but he couldn't stand being left behind and doing nothing while deaths all around the city were happening and no one was collecting them. He made up his mind and his eyes flashed with decision. He took one of the first files on the desk and went through it. A nobleman, owner of a growing company would die by blood lost caused by a stab near downtown. It was a simply task. He had done it before with his sempai and knew how to do it in practice. And... he had died that way so it mustn't be difficult to collect a soul of someone that was almost dead. He took his death scythe with a little more force than usual and headed to London without saying another word. He needed to prove them that he was useful and he was ready to form part of the shinigami ranks.

Finding him was easy. He was leaned into a wall in a dirty alley and was grabbing his backside where a nasty maroon stain was forming. He jumped off the roof and went to meet him.

"Richard Blacksmith. My name is Alan Humphreis and I'm the reaper to collect your soul today". He said sounding more secure that he really felt. When he saw the awestruck face in the soul to be collected, he started to read the file out loud just as it was stipulated in the manual. Feeling more confident with every spoken word, Alan prepared himself to reap the soul.

"I don't want to die". The man said shutting up the startled young one in the process. "I won't die today".

Alan just managed to stare the man in front of him. It wasn't like it was unusual, nobody wanted to die in the first place, but it was unnerving to hear it out loud from the man who was about to pass away. Suddenly, the reaper felt a sharp pain in his right cheek that knocked him out ungracefully to the floor. The second thing he knew it was the man on top on of him hitting every part of his body that could get to. His death scythe was laying about three feet away, so he tried to protect himself with his arms and reach it in the same time. They started struggling. A well aimed punch made Alan's glasses to explode, and the brunette had to close his eyes in order to stop the fragment to incrust in his eyes. He yelled in pain and anger and started to fight back in his now inhuman strength. He kicked the man in the groin, who fell to the floor crouching in pain. The small shinigami threw himself toward his scythe and got to get a hold of it before he was tackled to the floor by the other one. He held the weapon with both hands and managed to push the mad man off him. With a fast movement he cut the man across the chest, whom screamed in pain and fell to his knees. He started drooling blood as the cinematic record appeared.

Alan cursed under his breath for not having a spare for his glasses while he was leaning in his death scythe to catch his breath again. Without his glasses his vision was really limited and he wouldn't see clearly the cinematic record to judge the soul. Even with the blurry mist that was his current vision he noticed that something wasn't right. What it was supposed to be a translucent negative of the man's memories was turning jet black and a smoky substance was peering from it. He couldn't see any image at all.

An unknown fear took over and he started to walk warily from the man to get away of the onyx-negative snake that was forming. Out of nowhere he felt something wrapping around his ankles while his wrists where being restricted in a painful mooring. He heard his death scythe crashing in the floor since he couldn't hold it anymore. Suddenly, he was blinded by the greatest pain he would ever felt when the black cinematic record went through his chest and came out by his back, and another line of negatives went inside his mouth to get inside him. He was being ripped apart inside out and he couldn't even screamed since he didn't have any breath left. In his white hot agony, the primal instinct of survival took over and he fought with all his might to get away of the source of pain. He couldn't get away, he was bound by death to the person dying in front of his eyes. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't get away and the pain was too much for his own mind to handle until the darkness of unconsciousness embrace him.

Alan couldn't stop the tears gathering in his eyes, and finding himself in the private safety that his apartment provided, he let them out. He clutched his chest again with his hand. Remembering the past pain seemed to renew the present one.

He woke up in the middle of hushed whispered in the infirmary.

"There hasn't been a case like this it at least a century..."

"... truly a shame, such an intelligent boy..."

"...that's why they were ordered to stay..."

He opened his eyes and he realized that it wasn't just one person hovering above him. He tried to focus them but it was useless. He tried to incorporate when a rough hand stopped him to do so and he was suddenly aware of the pain that was consuming everything. And then, the memories began to flow.

"Are you alright?"

"I, yes... I'm fine. What happened?"

"If you'd excuse us, I need to talk with Mr. Humphreis"

The blurry figures left the room quietly and he started to get anxious. In the mist that was his vision he found a pair of glasses in the side table and put them on. In front of him was William T. Spears, Head of the Division where he was assigned to. He started to fist his bed sheets in apprehension.

"W-William- sempai".

"Alan Humphreis, are you alright?"

"I-I..."

"You disobeyed a direct order form a superior, putting yourself and the whole Division in unnecessary danger, am I correct?"

Alan felt his cheeks burn but remained silent.

"You took a case that wasn't even designated to you while the Dispatch was under emergency state and showing a shameful and high-handed attitude toward your partners, didn't even tell another fellow reaper where were you heading, am I correct? Answer me."

The brunette felt going even redder and just nodded, not daring to look him in the eyes.

"I thought I was ready sir, I just wanted to help..."

"Honestly. It's always the new ones that cause this kind of problems all the time. I expected better than this from you, Mr. Humphreis."

"I-I'm sorry, sir! I..."

" I'm going to tell how you stand in this situation. Please, do not interrupt me."

Alan just nodded with his eyes in the floor.

"You failed to collect that soul." Alan was about to say something but thought it better seeing the look on his superior's eyes. "When we found out that you were missing, we went to search for you. It took about two hours and too much shinigami unpaid labor to find you. We found you in an alley next to Richard Blacksmith's corpse. We did not find Mr. Blacksmith soul. You were unconscious and with severe injuries, therefore you were brought here to receive medical attention. After a complete examination by our medical team we found out that..." His sempai seemed loss of words and Alan was perplexed when he saw an emotion in his boss' face he hadn't seen since... well never. Compassion.

" The doctor in charge declared that Mr. Blacksmith's soul refused to be collected, resulting in attacking you and getting inside your body. I presume that the cinematic record didn't played as expected and turned into something disgusting like gray smoking substance, am I correct?"

"Yes, sir" Alan whispered.

William T. Spears sighed. "That confirms it then. You need to pay attention, for what I'm about to say to you is strictly classified and concerns only you for the matter. There are rare occasions when really revengeful souls refuse to be harvest and to become a book in the time of existence. They seek to cause pain, hurt and vengeance. Usually, when no collected, they turn into something called poltergeist , more limited than a human but far more capable of hurting than a mere ghost, so they're free to attack people or damage furniture. Useless and senseless creatures. They are usually just a nuisance that don't affect us directly. But, when it comes to an immortal, they can cause severe and irreparable damage. Those disgusting things seem to find attractive the vital force that we posses in order to accomplish our duty through eternity. Even though they no longer posses any kind of consciousness, they feed from it and become stronger and stronger, every time needing more to sustain themselves in a body that doesn't belong to them . They only time they can get inside a host is when the soul in question is separating from the human body, and once it set inside of an immortal, there's no way to take it out. That means that, Mr. Humphreis, it feeds from the guest until it kills him"

"..."

Alan was staring at space in silence.

"There haven't been too many of these situations, this is the first one in two centuries. Lamentably, all the recorded cases have had the same fate. The only difference was the lasting time, which depended mostly of the strength of the vital force. The death of an immortal being is a taboo, so you're not going to find much information about it, but feel free to come to me if anything goes into your mind".

The brunette was speechless staring at the space. No really thinking of anything. He felt hallow.

"Do you need some time alone?"

The younger shinigami kept staring at the space not really seeing.

"Alan?"

He cringed at the sound of his first name and look at his superior. He just nodded.

To remember the dark, cold and vast void he fell into that day made him to bite his lower lip with force and no stop until he felt the rusty taste of his own blood in his mouth. He had an eternity of plans that wouldn't become reality.

After that, everything was just pure loneliness. Even though his condition was classified top secret, he could still see in the eyes of those who turned away from him the fear only induced by the Thorns of Death. He became shyer and didn't speak if only spoken to first.

He was reassigned to a new tutor. _Eric Slingby_. He didn't remember having seeing him before. He was terrified. The new tutor had a fame of being a ladies' man and short tempered. They first time he saw him, instead of scowling him or glared at him, he just _smiled_. Nobody smiled to him since the accident. He managed to wave shyly to him.

Every single minute he spent with him, it was special. At first, the blond didn't speak too much and Alan had to jog a little to be able to keep his rhythm. Nonetheless, Eric- sempai taught him how to reap souls in easier, simpler and faster ways. He enjoyed so much seeing the blond harvesting souls, he always did it in such neat and elegant way. He wished that he could do it like that one day.

Eric didn't seem to care about... well anything, but somehow made him smile with lame jokes. Alan tried so hard to impress him but always everything went wrong and Eric would mock him and ruffle his hair while laughing.

However, the brunette fought continuously with a pain in his chest that kept growing with every passing day. He'd had it at bay but working overtime for two days had drained him, and he couldn't stop a painful moan to escape his lips and clutch his chest while in mission with Eric-sempai. He asked if he was able to continue and the brunette answered yes, clutching his fist and forcing himself to go on.

The second time it happened, he wished he would vanish from the realm. It was already bad enough that he was conscious about his own state than having to look weak in front of the blond. Of course he realized that his superior was beyond angry and frustrated by his lack of answer but he couldn't tell him the truth. What if he went away? Just like his first tutor after _the_ incident? He just wanted to be treated like everybody else, he didn't want pity hovering over him and throwing away all his work.

Alan wiped with the back of his hand the tears that didn't stop flowing. He stretch a little and sighed. He could reach his death scythe from his position in the floor. He grabbed it and used it to get up. It had been left near the door when they entered the room. He saw some ericas in a vessel in the table. He sighed. Loneliness. He life was full of it.

Obviously, the cases of young people dying cause always an impact in him. And that one day time ago when they had to collect a soul of a young man that was about to start his own family, he was wondering about his own life. Why he was the one to end their dreams, hopes and plans when he was having the same fate? Well, at least he had Eric by his side. And something magical happened. Suddenly, they were surrounded by ericas and a marvelous spectacle occurred when they were stuck in a purple petal rain. He smiled sadly. How many scenarios like this he would be able to see again?

Then, the third attack during a missing occurred. The look in Eric's eyes, the silent accusation and the worry in his voice broke him. He couldn't hold back anymore. He confessed. _Thorns of Death._ He was dying and he was afraid. He didn't know what to do and he was failing as a shinigami and more important of all, to his partner and friend. Yes, _friend_. Well at least he considered himself as his friend. He didn't feel alone when next to him. Trying to resist the pain, both physical and mental, he held on to his death scythe with all his strength, thinking that the blond would go away. He never expected that he would just stand there, speechless, and after what seemed like an eternity the blond fell to his knees next to him and grab his shoulder.

He didn't ask for another partner and in Monday's morning he showed up like any other day and he mock Alan's eye bags caused by two sleepless nights for the fear of losing his only friend and be left alone again. The brunette smile broadly and went to meet his partner.

And they stuck together.

The fought bravely the pain when the attacks struck, only for not look weak in front of such admirable shinigami. The truth was that those attacks were stronger and more often, draining him, mining him. And...

He was getting really tired.

Today's attack have been the strongest one yet, but he kept on walking with Eric's help, and even had the strength to kicked him out of the apartment. He didn't want to look weak. He didn't want pity, less from all the blond. Not from him. If he needed to throw him out the apartment and suffer alone, so be it.

He didn't want to see the painful look in those eyes so alike his, neither want to feel the other's hopelessness. He was hopeless for good by his own.

He just...

_Didn't want Eric to suffer._

He had an expiration date. He didn't want to take away Eric's light when his own was gone.

_If only Eric knew how much he means to me..._

He sighed and walked to his bedroom.

He needed to rest for a while.

.

.

.

.

.


End file.
